Rules of Protection (Tangled in Texas)(3)

By: Alison Bliss

Damn. I hate weasels.

Begrudgingly, I kissed him back, but only to make it believable. At least that’s what I told myself. If he wanted a show, then that’s exactly what he was going to get. I leaned into him, curled my arms around the back of his neck, and moaned softly.

Immediately, his lips stopped moving against mine, and his body became rigid. I thought it was the end of the match, and we would each return to our respective corners. With me being the winner and all.

Boy, was I wrong!

The moment I began to back away, he firmed his grip on my waist and parted my lips with his tongue, deepening the kiss. No, actually, it wasn’t a kiss, more like a molestation of my mouth. Who was I to complain, though? It was good. Really good.

My fingers slid through his hair. His tongue touched mine, and a fiery sensation rocketed through my entire body. Involuntarily, I shivered, and it set him off. His thumbs dug into my hips as he pulled me tighter against his growing erection. I gasped at his hardness and, remembering where we were, fought the urge to touch it.

A bathroom hallway in a packed nightclub wasn’t where I wanted to partake in a public display of heavy petting. I must’ve surprised him when I responded to his kiss, but it all happened so fast I didn’t have time to contemplate his motivation. Nor did I care to. Sergio had to be standing there with wide eyes and an open mouth, but I didn’t want to stop long enough to check.

When I finally pushed the weasel away, he grunted in protest, but didn’t stop me. Panting softly, I glanced around and noted the empty hallway. Sergio had disappeared.

I wasn’t sure what to say. My brain shifted gears but had trouble getting up to full speed. So I said the first thing that popped into my head. “Did you wash your hands?”

A patronizing grin contorted his face, but he ignored my question and asked one of his own. “Why do you taste like Pepto Bismol…and chocolate?”

My cheeks flushed with heat. “Long story, but it doesn’t matter. Why’d you do that?”

“Do what?”

“You kissed me. Why?”

“Long story, but it doesn’t matter.” He winked and then walked away.

His abrupt departure surprised me, but I was outraged he didn’t ask for my name or phone number. Hell, he didn’t even ask me to go home with him. As if he actually intended to save me from Sergio after all. And I never thanked him.

Back in the bathroom, I composed myself, fanning my face with a paper towel. I was hot, but it wasn’t the kind of heat staved off by air conditioning. Only time—or possibly an orgasm—would cure the fever under my skin.

After a few minutes, I strolled back into the main room more in control of the brain fog that had overwhelmed me. I spotted Gina and Dale walking in the opposite direction from me on the other side of the dance floor. I yelled to get their attention, but the music was too loud.

Weaving through the crowd, I waved frantically and yelled again. “Gina! Dale! Hey, over here!”

By the time I noticed the step up in the floor, it was already too late. I tripped and reached for the closest thing to me, which happened to be a man. Trying to catch myself, I had an intimate moment with the bulge in his pants on the way down.

The floor punched me in the face, but the pain was slight compared to the mortifying beating my pride had just taken. Two seconds after I hit the floor, I decided to stay there. I wasn’t sure if it was because I physically couldn’t get up, or mentally didn’t want to.

The man I’d felt up lifted me with ease, stood me upright, and held me until I steadied myself. Mortified, I refused to look up until I heard him ask, “Are you okay?”

No! It can’t be.

My eyes shot up, looked directly into his, and I stopped breathing. It was the hunky weasel with the steely gray eyes. If I had to embarrass myself in front of someone, why did it have to be him? Where in the hell is Sergio when you need him?

The hunk smiled as if he read my mind. “I always wanted a girl to fall head over heels for me.”

I stood motionless and tried to think of something to say that didn’t sound stupid. “Well, next time I’m near your crotch, I’ll be sure to bring my knee pads.” Nope. That wasn’t it. At least six guys turned their heads toward us and sucked in a breath.

Also By Alison Bliss

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